


The Legendary Psychopath

by Opo



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Adventure, Dragons, F/M, Mystery, Romance, Werewolves, legacy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-04-14
Updated: 2015-02-24
Packaged: 2017-11-03 20:54:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/385834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Opo/pseuds/Opo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How did she get here? Where did she come from? And why is there some woman in her head?</p><p>Her first memory is that of being on a prison wagon on her way to the execution block, a blank slate to a dusty and dirty world, unaware of all social norms and expectations. Slowly but surely, she evolved; first silent and studious, then letting her hair down enough to begin truly enjoying life. She even almost wed, only deciding against it because the young girl within her wanted adventure, wanted to explore. "I can't explain it, it just feels as though there's some string attached to my soul, pulling me towards something," she'd explained. She'd had no idea how cruel the world could really be outside her small niche in the Hold of Whiterun.</p><p>Guided through life by a divine female voice that claims to have made her and hardened by cruelty and poor circumstances, Jannir tries to find out the truth to who she is, never realising how she would change the course of countries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

He could hardly believe it. Literally, had he not been there at that exact moment he would not have believed that the woman standing before him were wanting to join the Companions he would have laughed at the notion. Standing before him was a woman of decent looks and average dress. Her long blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail so as to keep it from her eyes with only a few stray locks to frame her heart-shaped face. Bright hazel eyes shone from behind thick eyelashes, the mischievous light within them matching the knowing smirk that her bow-shaped lips formed. A pleasing figure was covered with plain worn blue and brown clothes that had been patched in several places for reasons unknown with matching worn boots that would likely have to be replaced soon.

 

All in all, she would have been one of the more beautiful women in Whiterun if it hadn't been for a masked coldness in her eyes. She would also almost seem delicate with her thin frame had she not had a full quiver of arrows and longbow strapped to her back. Had he not known his weapons as well as any well trained warrior, he would have easily mistaken her for a farm girl from the countryside. But the bow that she wore to her back was one of the finest make as well as decorated with runes for magical effects.

 

"I'd like to join your group," she said. Her voice was soft and sweet, matching perfectly her appearance of sweet country lass. Her rose colored lips spread into a charming and trusting smile, only adding to the naivety that she carried in the air around her.

 

He immediately didn't trust her, convinced that she was one of the most dangerous women he had ever met. Comparable even to the Silver-Bloods and Black-Briars. It was that train of thought that led him to where he was now: stalking the young Nord woman known as Jannir. 

 

\------------------------

 

"You should be finding a man to make an honest woman out of you, Jannir, not hunting down random things to kill."

 

Jannir threw her head back and laughed, the light of the campfire giving her an almost ethereal glow. Sinding smiled in kind, having always found Jannir's smile infectious. "Right, because any man that knew all there was to know about me would be so overjoyed to marry _me_."

 

Had the comment come from anyone else's lips, Sinding would have walked from the camp then and there. Over the years he had developed a complete intolerance for self-pitying comments. It was only because Jannir was saying it that Sinding didn't walk out then and there. After all, no one really knew all there was to know about Jannir and what little Sinding did know (which was mostly the result of guesswork and poor spying)...well, it didn't exactly give him ground to argue the statement. "You just need to find a man that holds nothing sacred," Sinding jested with a smile.

 

"Hey! I hold some things sacred...just not nearly as many things as the average person." They both laughed at that. "But in all seriousness, men want women who want to own their own farm or have their own store. Women that want to settle down in their own house, have children, and grow old doing what they love. Not women like me."

 

Sinding shook his head, having been through the same argument several times already with her. "You'd best get to bed. I'll stand watch."

 

Jannir smiled at the other Nord. "Thank you for doing this, by the way Sinding. I know it isn't exactly your idea of a fun time, standing guard over me whenever I'm on the road."

 

Sinding simply winked in reply before standing and walking into the woods to change into his wolf form and begin his rounds around the campground. Almost automatically Jannir took out a set of clothes she had gotten made specifically for Sinding the last time she had been in Solitude--a ritual she had done ever since first meeting Sinding three months prior.

 

\---------------------------

 

_The newly familiar screech of a dragon burst through the air but the younger Jannir had no knowledge of dragons. In fact she had no knowledge of anything save her name, age, and race. Even the knowledge of her race was granted to her only because of her lighter than Imperial eyes, fair skin and wheat-field blonde hair. She only assumed that the singular word that repeated itself in her mind--Jannir--was her name, and her age was a rough estimation only gauged thanks to a brief reflection of her person that she had been able to catch in a puddle of water._

 

_Her wrists were rubbed raw from the rope that bound her. But her aching muscles and raw wrists were quickly forgotten once she was brought to Helgen and realized that she was to be beheaded and her eyes filled with tears from the fear. Her hands shook and her knees felt weak as she walked off of the cart and, too soon, towards the chopping block. She didn't even know what she had done! All she knew about her past was that there was some reason or another to be near the border of the country, Skyrim._

 

 _The man with the list had said that she had picked the wrong time to come home, but was that what she had been doing? Did she even_ have _a home in Skyrim? Did she have a home anywhere?_

 

_Too soon she was called up to the chopping block. For a moment, she was frozen in fear. Not from the call of the dragon, she honestly hadn't known that such a noise wasn't completely normal, but because she didn't want to die. Every self preservation instinct in her began to scream and for a moment she couldn't decide whether she wanted to run or fight more._

 

_The second call for her from the Imperial commander jerked her out of the trance-like state she had been in and slowly, numbly, she walked forward and knelt next to the headless body of the Stormcloak man that had gone before her. In a sense, she had traded once trance-like state for another, feeling almost as though she were completely disconnected from her own self._

 

_Then the dragon landed and everything became a blur of movement. Faces and voices became indistinguishable as she moved automatically, sometimes by her own thought and sometimes by the command of others. It was only because of the shock of blue against the monotonizing grey and red--red from flames, blood, and cloth--that she had followed the Stormcloak inside the Keep rather than the Imperial._

 

_With a sense of regret and wrong-doing she removed the clothes from Gunther, the butchered Stormcloak inside the Keep. She then continued to kill the Imperials that came at her with weapons drawn. It was with these few first killings that she discovered that she possessed some talent for wielding weapons, though she went from ax to sword to bow quickly._

 

_Time accelerated in the way that time only could in dreams and she found her dream-self awake early on in the morning during that first night in Riverwood. Ralof was evidently in the same boat, as she found him sitting at the table staring at the fire. Though the night was dark and she consciously knew of no way to tell time, she felt somewhere within her that it was a few hours yet to dawn._

 

_No longer clad in the bloodied Stormcloak armour, she had changed instead to a belted tunic of about the same color as her hair. It was a change she was most thankful for, though she couldn't help but remember how numbly she had undressed in front of Hod, Gerdur, and Ralof. Gerdur had ushered the men from the house--one averting his eyes, the other gawking. The other, possibly older, woman had later asked Jannir how she had been able to keep her skin in such good condition._

 

_Jannir replied with furrowed brows and a confused frown, to which Gerdur laughed. "You must have been royalty before finding yourself in Helgen--either that or the divines created and birthed you right where you were captured." To the latter idea Gerdur laughed, buttoning up the back of the dress as she did so._

 

_Ralof looked up from the fire and watched as Jannir's slight yet still shapely form moved to sit next to him, her back towards the fire. "Couldn't sleep, eh?"_

 

_Jannir shook her head, her ponytail swaying slightly at the movement. She had found that she preferred listening to talking, having found already that it was more beneficial to simply listen._

 

_Ralof, knowing this, leaned back in his chair as he  swirled his mug of mead before taking a hearty gulp. "You truly don't know anything before being captured, do you?"_

 

_She again shook her head "no." When she spoke--the first time she had done so to her knowledge--she found that her voice was shaky as though it had never been used. It also possessed a strange accent to it, one she could not put her finger to. "Do you?"_

 

_"About when you were captured? Sure I do. You were taken prisoner after I was and boy did you cause quite the stir. They had just been packing up to leave for Helgen when you literally stumbled out of the forest clad in naught but your underclothes. You were quite the sight, as I recall--several Imperial men even tripped over their own shoes." He laughed at the memory, a deep a hearty thing that she found surprisingly almost annoying. She quickly chided herself for being so annoyed over something so natural--after all, laughter didn't sound like chimes or flutes._

 

So why had I expected it to? _she silently questioned._

 

_"Anything else?" she asked, partially out of curiosity and partially out of a desire to think of something else._

 

_Ralof shrugged, but his eyes searched her face hungrily as though hoping or expecting something. "They had you dressed in the rags you were in and had you brought to Helgen for beheading. I suppose they thought that it was better to be safe than sorry."_

 

_Jannir didn't understand the last comment of his, but she nodded nevertheless. Listening to the crackle of the fire, the soft breathing of the houses other occupants, and occasional gulps of Ralof drinking from his mug she looked down at her hands as though expecting them to hold an answer of some sort._

 

But if getting answers were that easy, there would be no questions, _a female voice sang out in her mind._


	2. Chapter 2

The next day she made easy work of the bandits holing themselves in yet another nameless abandoned fort. Truthfully it wasn't a nameless fort, but she had seen so many that their names no longer mattered. All that mattered was that she needed to get inside and kill the target: in this case an elderly woman named Agnis. The poor thing hadn't even been armed beyond the customary dagger, but it hardly mattered to Jannir. No one earned a contract without some godsforsaken reason--not even herself. Granted she still hadn't a clue as to whom had wanted her dead or for what reason, but she figured it had to have been something she had done before Helgen. One day, though, she would find out.

 

After ransacking the corpses and taking all the valuables she could carry she made her way back to the encampment. Her leather armor was almost completely devoid of any blood, as it tended to be every day. One of the many benefits to primarily using a bow, she had found--less clean up. It was a blessing for her, since it meant less time cleaning and more time traveling.

 

Sinding was no where to be seen when she arrived back at the camp. It didn't really surprise her however, as she had hardly expected him to sit around and wait for her all day. With the ease of many practices, she cleaned off her armor, stored it, put on a plain green dress with a brown corset and some boots, and went about preparing a meal. 

 

It was in this state that Sinding found her when he returned to the camp an hour later. "I'm flattered, Jannir, but I'm afraid wooing a werewolf probably isn't in your best health."

 

Jannir stood up straight with a heartbroken expression on her face, one of her hands fluttering up to her heart as though his words had truly injured her. Lower lip trembling as though struggling to keep her emotions under control, she said, "I know and I'm sorry. I just can't keep it to myself anymore--I love you, Sinding." It was a perfect representation of a heartbroken maiden if he ever saw one. The only reason he knew that it wasn't meant in the least was because he knew Jannir--or, at least, knew her more than anyone likely else did. She wasn't the type to give her away her trust to anyone, let alone her heart.

 

"So where to now?" he asked as he sat down on a tree stump.

 

She smiled to him, any and all signs of the false broken hearted maiden gone. "Back to Whiterun. I've some business with the Companions to wrap up."

 

"Gonna need me to hang around?"

 

Jannir shook her head as she dished out some of the stew. "I should be fine but thanks. As usual you're more than welcome to stay in the spare bedroom for however long you need." The spare room used to belong to Lydia, the housecarl she had received after receiving the position of Thane of White. She had since passed however after charging two Sabre Cats and  Spriggon. Jannir hadn't ever felt bad or really mourned the other woman--she had been a fool to rush in alone while Jannir had been looking at some plants. Regardless, the two women hadn't exactly been friends in any sense of the word. Lydia had constantly frowned upon Jannir's stubborn silence and liking to sneaking around and killing all manner of things off from afar.

 

Sinding nodded and took the bowl of stew that Jannir offered him. "Think I'll do that for a few days. It'd be nice to sleep in a warm bed and have hot meals three times a day again. What do the Companions need you for, anyhow? Gonna turn you into a werewolf like me?"

 

She shrugged as she sat down next to him. "Wouldn't know."

 

\------------------------------------------

 

_Did she truly look so that much like a scruffian? Women--mostly Imperial women or women that had sided with the Empire she had noticed--constantly accused her of trying to steal their husband and guards constantly warned her about breaking the law. Was everyone in this country so insecure or was it just people from that area?_

 

_Balgruuf, at least, treated her more kindly. The fact that he was the Jarl didn't matter one whit to her, nor did she see any reason for it to. Jarl or no Jarl, he was a man just like any other and so should be treated as any other. She knew deep within her that not all men felt the same way, but that hardly seemed to matter to her. Let them wallow in their pride and ignorance._

 

_After having saved up her coin for the days leading up to going to Whiterun and after defeating a rather odd dragon--she could have sworn several times that he had actually spoken in such a way that she understood--she bought herself a house that she lovingly dubbed "Breezehome." An odd name for a home to be sure, but she somehow found it fitting. Granted she had to sell just about everything she owned as well as wander about for a few days just to scrape up the money she needed for the furnishings, but it all paid off in the end in her mind._

 

_As she sat by the fire one night, she imagined how it might feel to have a husband and a couple children--or several. She was, after all, still young and the urge to reproduce was completely natural. She fantasized about the kind of husband she wanted. Strong for sure--what good was a man that couldn't hold his own?--and maybe ruggedly handsome but in an odd way.  Kind, too. After all, a swing may be the test of physical strength but the size of the heart measured the inner strength._

 

_It was this thought that she carried with her to bed and she had to resist the urge to squeal girlishly at the fantasy. Such was how she spent her first night in her first home._

 

_\-----------------------------_

 

The dream echoed in her mind as Whiterun came into sight. How she had changed since the first time that she had stepped foot in Whiterun, how she had calloused. But no matter what had happened or would happen in her life, Whiterun would always be home to her. Most of the people in the city had come around to at least tolerate her as she had proven herself more than helpful on several occasions.

 

"Feels good to be home I take it?" Sinding asked with a wry smile as he handed the reins of Jannir's horses to the stable boy.

 

She shrugged in reply. "Good enough. We'll go ahead and relax for a today and possibly tomorrow as well, then I'll head to the Companions to find out what I'm to do next."

 

"More petty runs more suitable for an errand boy, then?"

 

"Probably."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to get the chapter up, been having technical problems as of late.
> 
> Remember, be sure to let me know who you guys would like Jannir to end up with for the long run! She'll likely have flings with most of the men listed, but I want you guys to let me know who you would enjoy her having an actual relationship with.

_Jannir flung out her arms and tilted her head back to face the clear night sky, spinning around in a circle while laughing girlishly. Her fur armor was streaked with blood, her hands literally caked in the blood of her enemies. The fight that had covered her so had been hours ago and had been one such fight where the odd Thane of Whiterun had decided to use a blade instead of her usual bow._

_  
_

_The entire scene was ridiculous...and maddening. "You psychotic little fuck!" The shrill exclamation made Jannir stop in her tracks and turn her wide, impossibly innocent gaze upon Lydia in shock and confusion. "You have got to be a complete sociopath I swear! I can't think of any other explanation."_

_  
_

_Forcing a shaky smile, Jannir said, "Lydia, what're you talking about you silly goose?"_

_  
_

_"If I hadn't been forced to be your housecarl and protect you with my life, I'd slit your throat here and now."_

_  
_

_The two women stood staring at each other for a long silent moment before Jannir finally spoke. When she did finally speak she kept her voice even and calming. "What do you mean, forced to become my housecarl?"_

_  
_

_"I was out to become one of the guard and pave a place for myself in this world when the Captain of the Guard approached me and told me that I was instead to be your housecarl. He told me that it was an honor to be the housecarl of a Thane and that I should feel grateful to be granted such a position. I don't think anyone in Whiterun even knows your true nature because if they did they would know that you don't have an ounce of honor in you."_

_  
_

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Jannir woke with a start, shaking in earnest at the memory of the dream. Strong arms tightened around her waist at the sudden movement. With a sleepy groan, Sinding slowly opened his eyes and propped himself up on one elbow. Favoring silence instead of poorly strung together words, the Nord man inspected the Nord woman through sleep hazed eyes as he waited for her to give an indication of how she would prefer him to react.

 

The memory of the last words she and Lydia had spoken to one another was an uneasy one. Social laws dictated that she should feel remorseful and yet she never had. If anything she had felt angry at the deceased woman for the longest time. She would be the first to admit anymore that she was hardly a woman of honor, but at the time that such words had been spoken she tried to remain as honorable as she could.

 

To that day she couldn't understand for the life of her why Lydia had loathed her so, nor did she understand what had caused the sudden outburst of their final conversation. At that point though she frankly didn't give a damn. Without warning she suddenly launched herself up and around so that she could straddle Sinding and began placing kisses on him.

 

Sinding chuckled to himself. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"

 

Jannir groaned against his ear lobe. "It can wait," she said as she sat straight up again, whipping her medium-length hair blonde hair out of her face and over her shoulder. "Or you can wait. Either, or."

 

Sinding laughed and flipped Jannir over onto her back in response.

 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Several hours later and smelling of sweat and sex, Jannir finally got up and dressed herself in a green dress adorned with a shanty brown bustier and slipped on her favorite pair of boots. It was an habit of hers from when she first had stepped into Riverwood with Rolaf many months ago to dress in the clothes that all others would wear on a regular basis. It was a small thing but it helped to remind her that there was more to her than light armor, killing and meaningless sex.

 

She could not bring herself to wander through the town unarmed though. Strung bow thrown across her back along with a quiver full of steel-tipped arrows, she headed out into the noon sun. As she closed the door to her home a Stormcloak soldier walked by and pointed a finger at her as he said, "Heard about you and your honnied words. Don't think you can talk me into anything."

 

Batting her thick eyelashes with as much come hither charm as she could muster (which was a substantial amount) she put a hand to her heart, as though both shocked and flattered by the man's words. Muttering a curse about women's charms, the soldier quickly began to walk past at a faster pace.

 

There was a whole plethora of things she had to get done while in town but first things first, she had to sell all of the bulky armor and weapons that she had accumulated throughout the course of her most recent wanderings. It was a good thing she could lift three times her weight.

 

"Now there's a lady that knows how to get things done." Jannir smiled to Adrianne as she approached Warmaiden's. The store hadn't been doing as well as before the Stormcloaks had taken over, but Jannir helped keep them afloat by going to them before anyone else when selling the goods she had found while wandering. "Back from another one of your journies with another load of weapons and armor you need to get rid of?"

 

"You know it," Jannir said as she opened her bulging pack and began placing piece after piece on the workbench for Andrianne to inspect. 

 

"Didn't even see you come home," Adrianne commented as she lifted up some enchanted dwarven armor to inspect it closer. "Must have been pretty late into the night when you wandered back into the city."

 

Jannir nodded. "Probably about one or two in the morning."

 

Adrianne raised her eyebrows and whistled. Months ago when the two women had just barely met such a reaction would have been from what Jannir had brought in from her ventures, but anymore the Imperial woman was accustomed to Jannir bringing back only the finest weapons and armor from her travels. No, the gesture was more due to the late hour that Jannir had gotten home. 

 

Little did the other woman know that the late hour was completely intentional, having wanted to keep Sinding away from prying eyes as much as she could. After the whole Hircine ring debocale Sinding wanted to stay as far away from society as possible which was part of the reason that he loved to travel with Jannir. She never really traveled to other cities, just caves, long abandoned forts, and ancient Nordic ruins. He knew that Jannir could more than handle herself should he suddenly lose control of himself and if he lost it on drougr or bandits...well, he wouldn't exactly be broken up about it.

 

After selling all the armor Adrianne could afford Jannir made her rounds to the rest of the merchants, selling her items as strategically as she hunted and killed so as to make the most money out of it. A little over two hours later she finally sauntered into Jarrvaskr and made her way over to Aela to inform her that the Sabre cat that had infiltrated the home in Solitude was dead.

 

"Good job. But before I give you another job, Skjor was looking for you. Best not keep him waiting."


	4. Chapter 4

"I'm just saying that you'd better watch your back."

 

 

Farkas rolled his eyes at his brother's words. Folding another set of underclothes to help prevent his steel armor from pinching his skin too badly, Farkas though about the suspicions Vilkas had expressed about Jannir since day one. Vilkas had always been one to distrust an pretty face or innocent expression and so he had openly distrusted Jannir from the first time he had set eyes on her. Farkas even suspected his twin brother of stalking the poor woman on several occasions. It seemed that almost every time Jannir left Whiterun, VIlkas would leave the same day under the pretense of needing to do a job. Vilkas did, however, always return before Jannir whether by several hours or several weeks.

 

 

Vilkas did have a point though--Jannir was a dangerous one. Not in an obvious way, no he didn't think Jannir would ever allow that to happen unless it suited her purposes, but he'd be damned if she wasn't a dangerous woman. After all, one couldn't travel throughout Skyrim and be a Companion without being formidable. Jannir had a sense of danger around her though. It wasn't something that anyone normal would generally pick up on, in fact the only way he even sensed that was because of his beast blood. But Kodlak had the beast blood and yet he still trusted Jannir as much as he did anyone in the Circle...and Farkas was content with that, to Vilkas' utter disbelief.

 

 

"I'll be fine," Farkas said as he threw a healing potion into his pouch. "We'll be back in a couple of days, healthy and with the fragment in hand."

 

 

"You'd better. If you don't I'll hunt her down and skin her like a dog."

 

 

Another eye roll. "Funny, considering we're the dogs. Just relax, would you? It's not like she's an assassin from the Dark Brotherhood."

 

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

Meanwhile on the other end of Whiterun, Jannir was also throwing together a bag for the sudden impromptu trip. Instead of the serene calm that Farkas had though she raged with an irrational anger. Any moron would have known that anything the Companions needed her to do would require her to travel again, but regardless she was angry at not even being able to rest in what she thought of as her home town for more than twelve hours.

 

 

But mainly she was just sick and tired of being the Companions' little bitch.

 

 

"Leaving me already?"

 

 

Jannir looked over her shoulder at Sinding. He stood in the doorway to her room leaned up against the door frame with his arms folded across his naked chest. From the looks of him, she would guess that he'd just finished giving himself a quick wash, what with his hair still damp. The look in his eyes made heat rush to her loins and she quickly looked away lest she lose sight of what she was supposed to be doing. "Unfortunately. I'm to leave with a Companion named Farkas to retrieve a fragment of some old as shit shattered ax."

 

 

"So soon? It's already past noon, surely it would be more wise to leave early tomorrow morning instead."

 

 

"It would be, but I suspect there is a reason behind why they would rather we leave so late. Just a matter of figuring that out. I should only be gone a day or two, the place they want us to go to is pretty close as far as old Nordic ruins go. We've actually been there before: remember Dustman's Cairn?"

 

 

Sinding grinned wolfishly at the memory. It had been a small ruin unlike so many others they had frequented guarded only with a couple drougr and the closest refuse they could find on such short notice. Normally they would have slept outside but a snow storm had rolled in an hour prior. So they decided to use Dustman's Cairn to wait out the storm and warm up...and had things ever heated up.

 

 

Jannir walked over to Sinding, bag in hand, bow and quiver full of arrows thrown over her shoulder. "I'm off," she said, planting a firm kiss on his lips before wiggling her fingers flirtatiously in way of a wave goodbye. "Be back in a few days."

 

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

_Dancing clumsily on the bar the men around her hooted and hollered, laughing at her drunken antics. She had traveled for too long, gotten sick of constantly being called by titles instead of her given name. So she had decided on a whim earlier that day to go back to Riverwood and unwind with people that she was more familiar with. People that didn't know of her titles and hopefully wouldn't have cared even if they did._

 

_  
_

_Baritone laughing played like music as Ralof came up and wrapped his arms around her knees, lifting her from the bar only to slide her down to the floor. The feeling of her body pressed so closely to his as she came back to the floor sent an unfamiliar rush of heat throughout her body. "Someone needed to unwind!" Ralof laughed as he wrapped his arms around her waist and spun her around in time with the joyful music the bards played._

 

_  
_

_Jannir simply smiled mischievously and moved her hips back and forth over his, immediately noticing that his body reacted to hers. It was the oddest thing. Drunken or not she had never been so close to a man before and hadn't ever seen one naked, so the sudden length of hardness caught her off guard and she laughed._

 

_  
_

_Lydia simply sat in the corner, arms crossed and a ferocious scowl marring her otherwise comely features. She had refused to take off her armor and instead get in a dress as Jannir had. The fact that she disapproved of her Thane's actions wasn't exactly hidden, though Jannir had instructed her not to call her Thane in the town they now found themselves in._

 

_  
_

_"Then what am I supposed to call you?" Lydia had hissed._

 

_  
_

_"Friend, sister, it doesn't matter," Jannir had replied as she fastened her dress. "Just stay away from my formal titles: Thane, Dragonborn, and whatnot."_

 

_  
_

_So there Lydia sat, watching and following Jannir throughout the night as she danced and laughed and flirted shamelessly with the men in the inn. Sometime through the night Jannir rented a room at the inn and shacked herself up there with a Nord man that she had referred to as Ralof._

 

_  
_

_The next morning Jannir slowly and unsteadily made her way out of the rented room and promptly asked for a glass of water from the innkeeper, who laughed good naturedly before fulfilling her request. "Head pounding?"_

 

_  
_

_Jannir groaned and ran her fingers through her long blonde hair, left down and sticking out all over the place. Yet she still somehow managed to look stunning even still and Lydia had to grit her teeth against the urge to say or do something horrible. "Is it always like this?" Jannir asked the innkeeper._

 

_  
_

_"Only on days ending with an 's.'"_

 

_  
_

_It was slow moving for Jannir that morning, head pounding and an unfamiliar pain in between her legs. But she pushed through it and the desire to do nothing but sleep and got herself dressed and armored before walking back out to Lydia._

 

_  
_

_Lydia glared up at Jannir before standing up abruptly and turning swiftly on her heel and brushing past Jannir with a muttered, "Whore."_


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up, my husband and I are moving across country so I'll be busy packing and moving for a while. I'll still update as frequently as possible though. :)

"Doesn't your husband mind that you're constantly coming and going?"

 

Jannir looked sharply over at Farkas her blonde pony tail whipping her cheek as she suddenly turned her head towards the older man, clear hazel eyes narrowing in a silent warning. She didn't appreciate questions being asked and over the past few hours, Farkas had done just that--inquired. None of the Companions knew much of anything about her and she liked it that way, preferred it that way. Talos, no one knew much of anything about her. Sinding knew her by constant companionship; Ralof knew her by being one of the only people there when she, for all intensive purposes, was "born." Everyone else only knew bits and pieces, filling in the gaps with poorly deducted hypothesis though a few people had come eerily close to the truth. Those people, however, shared said truth(s). Babette, Cicero and Nazir, for example. But she cared little if those three personally knew a secret or two of hers. They were Brothers and Sister and really no different.

 

The Companions were a different story though. They thought to hold on to a misguided sense of honor and to respect the law as much as they could. Given the chance to keep things "clean" they would take it. The fact that they believed themselves to be better than the common sell-sword still both mystified and entertained her. They were hired to kill, beat, kidnap, or otherwise intimidate and/or overpower a given person for an amount of coin and they did so without question. They trusted that their clients were honorable, trustworthy people that would only ask for such things if they were truly necessary and that by fulfilling such contracts of sorts they were somehow proving their honor and paving their way to Sovengarde. It was these delusions that not only made Jannir distrust them, but also view them as dangerous.

 

"I don't have a husband," she finally gruffed before speeding up her pace in an attempt to dissuade Farkas from asking any more pointless questions. The Companions wanted her to help them fulfill jobs, not to become their wife, best friend, or drinking partner. Equally, she wanted to be part of the Companions for the sake of connections, not because she actually gave a shit about them and their ideals. They didn't need to know that though and if they ever asked for whatever godsforsaken reason, she would simply give them the answer they wanted. She had learned quickly that no one truly wanted the truth unless they were dead or the truth had no effect over them and their lives. As a traveling fortune teller had told her once before, "People pay for good news, not for the truth."

 

The distance was not a deterrent, however. "That's odd. How did you afford that house in Whiterun then?"

 

Desperate to escape the probing questions, Jannir looked up to the sky in hope that it was time to set up camp for the night. It wasn't, but it was close enough that it hardly mattered. Briskly she made her way to a small clearing she had camped at before and pointed to the ground there. "We'll set up camp here. I'm going to go get us some supper. You get camp ready." With that she dropped her pack and ran off into the woods.

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Farkas found the entire thing interesting. He had known that his questions bothered her and had suspected that she would rather get branded than be submitted to constant questions about her personal life. Her actions had only since proven that he was close to the mark, if not entirely correct.

 

The fact that she apparently had no husband intrigued him. Most women had been married at least once by their early twenties, even Aela. And though virginity wasn't exactly the most required thing for women to have, most still tended to give it to their husband after the wedding. Most of the women who didn't were whores as an occupation. Yet Jannir had smelled pungently of sex when she had finally strolled into Jorvvaskr that afternoon and carried a bow and arrow like a trained huntress of many years as well as knew the land well enough to be able to pick out a seemingly random camping spot with as much familiarity as the average person picked out their favorite foods. There was of course other choices such as that she lied about being married, but the only rings he had ever seen her wear were ones with enchantments to boost things such as protection and accuracy, never the marriage rings of Mara, emblazoned with her sigil. It could also be that she was both adventurer and whore, but to know the lay of the land so well hours away from the Whiterun hold and work as a whore would have been too much for anyone to handle. She would have had to literally work as she walked. Regardless, even the best of whores didn't make enough to be able to afford their own house, furniture, equipment, and horses.  A room at a local inn and food sure, but not all of that.

 

He eyed her pack from across the newly set up camp site. Tents had been pitched, bed rolls laid out, and fire ready for cooking he was left with nothing to do and still at least an hour or two before Jannir would return. The Companions needed to know who exactly they would be welcoming into their ranks after the trial, he reasoned. And there was little ways to better become acquainted with a person than to go through their personal belongings.

 

With deft hands he opened her pack and slowly took out item after item.

 

Black clothes with a matching mask that would fit tightly to her body. Well made mage robes, the likes of which he had never seen before. Another set of tight-fitting black clothes with an attached cape and mask that would expose not a single detail of her face with an odd symbol emblazoned upon the chest piece of it. Dresses of a more ordinary style including the one that she had worn the first time she had walked into Jorvvaskr. Two pairs of ordinary boots to go with the mundane dresses. Various circlets, rings, necklaces...

 

All of it enchanted and most of those enchantments ones that Farkas didn't even know how to guess at the purpose behind them. The few enchantments he did minutely recognize he mostly guessed at, not being a master at enchantments or magics of any sort. The only things that weren't enchanted was a small stack of neatly folded, nondescript men's clothing as well as a couple pairs of men's trous. At this Farkas raised his eyebrows. Traveling with spare men's clothing wasn't exactly something that a normal, unmarried woman would do. Not even women carrying on secret affairs with married men did that. So why did she?

 

He continued on regardless.

 

An extra bow (nothing out of the ordinary there, bows were wont to break sooner or later). Too many arrows of every type to even try to count. A long, light, thin-bladed one-handed sword that he had never seen before. Two curved, malicious looking daggers. And a pickax. Not too odd save for the fact that all but the arrows were enchanted, but that was beginning to be a pattern with Jannir's items.

 

So far all he had found simply suggested that she was the sneaky sort, but that was something that he had already guessed at by her insistent avoidance of personal questions.

 

Potions of health, stamina, magic--normal for the most part. He rose his eyebrows at the sight of the potions of invisibility, lock picking, and sneaking though. Most of the potions were home-made, stored in various bottles with handwritten labels. An alchemist. Not the finest, but certainly valuable. Gems, refined and raw ore, necklaces and rings of an incredibly fine make most with enchantments, keys made of everything from gold to wax, soul gems, books of high value and hefty weight including one that looked as though the cover was made of random patches of leather... Finally he came to a hefty coin purse and, curious, opened it up. His eyes widened at how many coins there were. The woman had to have at least close to twenty thousand septims, if not more. But if she was so wealthy and already owned her own house and horses, why was she doing work for the Companions? Why not simply set up a shop or retire or travel?

 

Suddenly something he normally would have overlooked caught his eye and in between some of the pages in the book that looked as though it's cover had been patched many times. Notes. Nondescript, plain noted closed with wax, predominantly red, with various seals and thumb prints pressed in the wax. All of the notes had already been opened and so he picked one at random and opened it. The name the letter was addressed to stopped him in his tracks.

 

 _"Stormblade--_ "

 

A thin and cold as death piece of metal touched his throat in a menacing warning and his entire body reflexively went still. He would have moved, had he not felt the cold point of a second blade pressed maliciously at his back. "You have ten seconds to explain," a cold, heartless voice hissed in his ear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter only has two parts instead of three, I sorry. But I have another chapter that will likely be up within a few days.
> 
> Also kudos, comments, and bookmarks make me update faster. :) I loves the loves, it helps give me motivation to write more, faster.


	6. Chapter 6

Farkas looked towards the tree line to see if, perhaps, Jannir had come back early and seen him looking through her pack. But there wasn’t even the slightest disturbance to indicate such. Closing his eyes and shoving the fact that his life was in jeopardy as far out of his mind as he could, he sniffed the air. It was definitely not Jannir behind him unless she had changed her scent from _Ode Sweat and Sex_ to _Ode de Death_ in the last few minutes. And changed her gender, because underneath the distinctive scent of death was a wholly masculine musk.

 

“Four seconds left,” the voice behind him whispered the lilting notes of a suppressed laugh right below the surface.

 

A twig snapped to the right and his eyes darted towards the source. Right in the tree line stood Jannir, bow slung over her back and three rabbits hanging on a rope around her waist. Her blank expression made it hard to gauge exactly what she was feeling. Raising an eyebrow to the man behind Farkas she dropped the stick she had, apparently, intentionally broken to announce herself and took a seat on a nearby rock to begin skinning the rabbits.

 

He didn’t understand. Why would she intentionally make a noise to introduce herself instead of dispatching the person behind him? Why simply sit there as though nothing odd was going on?

 

Suddenly, he understood. The reason she wasn’t doing anything was because there was nothing odd happening. Just as suddenly as the mysterious blades had appeared, they had disappeared leaving him to look foolish and guilty surrounded by what was clearly the contents of her oversized pack.

 

Jannir was pleased to see that Farkas at least had the decency to look embarrassed and guilty. It meant that he had morals and emotions, something that she found somewhat respectable regardless of how misguided some of them were. She leveled her eyes with his, allowing an amused and annoyed expression on her face as she began to strip the first rabbit of a length of skin and fur.

 

He cracked a bit faster than she thought he would. Averting his eyes, he began to put her things back into her pack and rambled on about some excuse.  Truth be told, she didn’t pay any attention to what he said because his words didn’t matter one whit to her. She had already planned out the entire thing in her mind which was the sole reason why she had left her pack behind in the first place. The only thing she hadn’t planned on was him getting so far into her pack. She counted herself lucky that one of her Brothers had been nearby—and especially that he was one of the more stealthy Brothers—elsewise he may have found out a bit more about her than she would have liked. Like the fact that she had connections to the Thieves Guild and Dark Brotherhood, or that she was the revered Stormblade or whatever the Stormcloaks had decided to call her.

 

She was just glad that there was no proof in her bag that she was the Thane of almost every hold. It wasn’t that being Thane was shameful—far from it—it was just that it wasn’t something she really wanted to boast about. Hence why she hung all of her weapons that were markers of her Thanedom in her house in Windhelm, the singular house of hers that never had a visitor other than her Housecarl and occasionally Ulfric.

 

Farkas finished rambling right about the time that she finished skinning the first rabbit and she decided that it was as good a time as any to make her move. Standing she walked over to Farkas and shoved the string of rabbits into his hands, grabbed her pack and ran back off into the forest.

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Truth be told she didn’t even need her pack, but it was all a part of the plan. Sitting on a rock with her back against her overly large pack whittling away at a fallen stick, Jannir let her mind wander. It had been a long time since she had simply let her mind rest. Albeit, her idea of mental rest was to analyze the past and find every mistake and figure out ways to eliminate said mistake in the future but to each their own, as the saying went.

 

The smell of pine and cedar filled the air around her and she found it to be utterly intoxicating. Skyrim was a land of consistency, hard as the granite and slate stones of the ground and as unforgiving as the fierce winter storms. Talos, as unforgiving as any of the season’s storms. For as long as she could remember, she couldn’t place a single day in Skyrim where there wasn’t a certain harshness to it but perhaps that was simply because she was always traveling, always killing. Perhaps, if she had been a normal woman—chosen the life of a normal woman when it had been offered—things would seem different to her.

 

No, that wouldn’t have been the case. Not for her. She was a fighter down to her very bone, destined for chaos and bloodshed if those damnable Greybeards had spoken the truth. As it was though, she didn’t believe that the Greybeards could speak the truth. Their truth, certainly, but they were so biased that they couldn’t simply give a wholly “on the fence” opinion. But truly, who could?

 

Ceasing her whittling for the time being, Jannir closed her eyes and let her head fall back. Opening her eyes just enough to see where to moons rested in the sky, she decided that it had not yet been long enough for Farkas to truly realize her lesson. Too short a time to begin to place him under her thumb. Closing her eyes again, she let her mind drift back in time.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_“Filthy pickpocket!”_

_“Stay away from my husband.”_

_“Don’t try anything on my watch or we’re going to have some serious problems.”_

_“Murderer!”_

_Their voices echoed in her head, screaming unfairly at her. Accusing her of things she had never done and nor planned on doing. But that didn’t seem to matter to these people—never mind her character, never mind that the worst she had done to these people was accidentally bumped into them while running through town. No, they refused to believe anything but the worst about her and for what reason? Because others had hurt them somewhere in the past? Because she was still a stranger in a strange land despite the fact that she had lived now in Skyrim for almost three months?_

_She had never done anything to catch the attention of a married man—the only man she had done anything with was Ralof and he was definitely unmarried. Talos, she knew his whole family at this point! They all wanted them to get married and Ralof had gone through the trouble of actually asking her. But she had denied him, explaining that she wanted to live a bit more and learn about herself some more before she went and settled down._

_Likewise, she had never broken the law other than one time when she killed a chicken because it was far away from the farm it belonged to and so she had thought it was free game. And the only people she had ever murdered were bandits and thieves that had attempted to pillage her and all her belongings on the road. But was self-defense really the same as cold-blooded murder?_

_To these people it was. To these people she wasn’t and could never be anything more than the filthy thieving, murdering skank and she had no idea as to why that was. Once again she had to wonder if there was just something about her looks that portrayed such ideas. But, no, she could see nothing about her physical being reflected in the calm pool of water that would make her look inherently evil. If anything else, she thought she looked pleasing._

_She felt something within her become brittle and shatter into thousands of tiny shards, leaving nothing but a source of absolute cold in its wake and she punched the pool of water that she had been staring into with a muted growl. She was sick of it. Sick of all these people judging her on the basis of how they thought her eyes looked or whatever it was they used to make their assumptions._

_“Jannir, you just about done looking at yourself? I get it—heck the whole of Skyrim gets it, you’re pretty but come on, you hired me to help you…”_

_Jannir spun around, stood up straight and readied her bow with an aimed arrow in one swift movement. Before the female dark elf could do anything but raise her hands to show Jannir that she meant no harm, Jannir released the elbow and watched as it neatly lodged itself into her carotid artery. Hands grasping futilely at her neck, the dark elf fell to the ground and Jannir watched serenely as the dark elf bled out and, eventually, died._

_She was done. These damnable people thought she was a monster before? Fine, if they wanted a monster, then she’d give them a monster._

_Ripping her arrow out of the corpse’s neck, Jannir looted the hired mercenary’s belongings._


	7. Chapter 7

The entire scourge through the Cairn was uneventful and three days later they arrived back within the familiar stone walls of Whiterun. A glance at her Breezehome told her Sinding was no longer there. If the cup in the window sill hadn’t given it away, a secret message between them to let the other know when the house had been vacated, the fact that she simply knew the man well enough would have. Even with her around, he could only handle being in city limits for a few days.  
  
Turning her eyes towards Farkas she watched him as he ambled through the streets, wondering once more what it was about this axe that was so important to the Companions. Sinding had already told her about how almost the entire lot of them were werewolves after she had asked him to walk by the place so many months ago, his wolf nose and instincts serving her well once more. He’d even gone so far as to specify for her which ones were wolves and which weren’t, painting for her an elaborate and colourful picture of the inner circle of the order. A list that she had found and proven first hand was almost exact with only one name not having been included and, if she were honest, the person that had been absent on Sinding’s list even she wasn’t sure was truly within that inner circle.  
  
Bringing herself back to the present she flicked her eyes towards Arcadia’s and, finding the apocrathy opening her shop door with oddly coloured smoke rolling out (another experiment gone messy she supposed), winked to her and patted her bulging bag. Arcadia simply laughed a bit and shook her head before turning back towards her shop and using a wooden plate to help coax the smoke from inside. Hers was another shop that had suffered since the Stormcloaks had taken over, but just like the Warmaiden Jannir worked to help keep them afloat. Turning her face from the Imperial woman she continued to follow Farkas to the Companions’ headquarters.  
  
Vilkas awaited them at the top of the steps to Jorrvaskr, arms crossed and a scowl on his face as he watched her walk just behind his brother. If he made the fact that he didn’t trust her any more obvious, she might be forced to get a shirt saying as much for him. Giving him a half smile she dipped down a bit into a ghost of a curtsy  
  
And as much as she knew he probably hated it, the man’s expression lightened and a hint of silent laughter brightened his eyes before quickly dying as he barked for them to follow him. Not bothering to silence her snickering she obediently followed after the brothers, her mind already on hiatus in the deeper parts of the Dwemmer ruins and running her fingers over the glowing plants as she swam naked through the clear waters. That was definitely the next thing to do on her list...right after stopping by Riverwood to visit Ralof’s family.  
  
The gathering in the training grounds of Jorrvaskr went quickly enough for her thanks to her impressively honed ability to simply zone out, really the only good thing to result from having to spend so many hours of her life waiting for some event or another. When Farkas was the one asked to speak up on her behalf, she was immensely grateful – she could just imagine the vile that Vilkas might have said about her.  
  
With a cheeky grin to the Companions and a mock salute, Jannir broke out into a run as soon as their rather tedious ceremony ended. She knew she needed to get work from the Companion leaders in order to continue to gain their trust, but for the time being she craved getting away. She’d had enough of being serious and putting on a farce in an attempt to keep the Companions mostly clueless as to who she was. It was time for her to let her hair down again and, at least for a moment, feel like a normal girl again.  
  
\--------------------------------------------------------  
  
By the time she reached Riverwood most people had deigned to stay indoors. She didn’t blame them – for this part of the world it was unseasonably chilly and had she not been accustomed to the perpetually frozen terrains of Winterhold she never would have dared wandering around in her favourite blue dress that was quickly going threadbare. Next time she was in Solitude she would have to have others fashioned like it, which was probably why she was avoiding that particular Hold lately.  
  
“I was wondering when we would be seeing you again,” Gerdur said with a smile as she sat down in the seat next to Jannir, a cup of mead in her palm.  
  
Jannir gave the other woman a twisted close-lipped smile as she chewed a rather large chunk of a red apple, her hand increasingly sticky as the juice dripped from the almost completely devoured husk. After a few more moments of chewing, Jannir finally swallowed and managed to say, “You guys know that as far as I’m concerned, this is my home town.” Then with about as much grace as a one legged giant she shoved the remainder of the ripe apple into her mouth.  
  
Hod laughed from across the room, moving towards the table and taking a seat next to his wife. “With the appetite of one to boot, it would seem. I swear it almost seems as though you don’t eat when you’re exploring the world. But I can’t complain – you did lead the way to stopping the war after all and drive out those nosey Imperials.”  
  
Gerdur nodded her agreement before taking a swig of her mead. “I will say that the town feels much safer now that Stormcloaks are watching over it. Of course we can’t get much safer when the revered Stormblade is within our mists.”  
  
Jannir jokingly swung a booted foot at Gerdur’s shin in response to the use of the title, making Hod’s wife peal with laugher and jump back in an attempt to avoid her dire fate. In the commotion, Hod made his move to swipe away his wife’s mead and begin drinking it himself, eliciting a protesting “hey!” from Gerdur as the fair haired woman made a move to retrieve her mead. An effort that failed miserably as Hod lifted his foot and planted it gently yet firmly against his wife’s stomach, effectively keeping her at bay until he completely drained the cup and set it down against the table with a clank and an entirely too self-satisfied noise despite his wife’s half-hearted threats to his well being.  
  
Jannir simply watched the whole thing laughing, slapping the table a couple of times as she leaned forward and pressed a hand against her stomach.  
  
“Well I was going to come by for supper, but I see the festivities have already begun.”  
  
At the sound of the voice there was a brief pause in laugher before Gerdur looked towards the door, her cheerful smile still firmly in place as she called out, “Ralof!”  
  
Jannir stopped dead, her laugher ceasing instantly as her face was washed with both fire and ice simultaneously, turning to look at the door over her shoulder. She had no right, she knew, but every time she saw Ralof it felt like she was being punched in the gut all over again. It had been her choice to walk away, her choice to travel instead of building a life and a family with him, but oh how she missed him and the life she had once imagined them to share sometimes. It was a feeling he seemed to share, if his sudden stop and then hesitant small smile was any indication.  
  
“Come, come and take a seat! Jannir here has already devoured at least two apples, but I’m sure that some beef stew would go over wonderfully,” Gerdur ushered, willingly ignoring or simply oblivious to whatever it was that passed between her brother and Jannir. Turning her back to the table she made her way towards the cabinet to retrieve four wooden bowls before heading over towards the fire and serving out the soup, bringing over two steaming hot bowls at a time. “You’re just in time, we haven’t even begun to begin grilling Jannir for the details of her travels.”  
  
Passing a small smile to Ralof almost apologetically, Jannir reached across the table to retrieve a couple loaves of bread, distinctly aware of him as he placed a hand at the back of her seat before claiming the one right next to her. For reasons she didn’t dare think much on, Jannir’s cheeks heated and she fervently avoided making eye contact with him as she handed him one of the loaves of bread. “There’s really not much to tell,” Jannir insisted.  
  
Setting down the bowl of stew in front of her two house guests, Gerdur finally sat back down with a dismissive wave towards Jannir. “Nonsense, compared to Riverwood your journeys are practically epic sagas.”  
  
Feeling the eyes of everyone in the room on her Jannir shifted in her seat, cheeks flushed. She was fairly sure she could even feel the eyes of the most recent cow on her, black beady eyes staring her down as it waited for some grand story or another.  
  
A hand on her thigh made her jump a bit and she looked over at Ralof as he smiled to his family and declared that some wizard from the college had just stumbled into the Sleeping Giant just before he left, drunkenly rambling on about how he had seen the new head of the college defeat five ice wraiths in one fell blow. Her almost-family burst out into peals of laughter over the absurdity of the tale – “Impossible!” Hod had declared, “Even the most seasoned of warriors couldn’t do such a thing.” – but Jannir felt as though a stone slammed into her stomach and quickly dipped her bread into her stew and began stuffing her face in an effort to mask her silence. Thankfully due to the mage’s drunken state and slightly embellished details no one would believe the tale, and gods knew that she couldn’t keep everyone from speaking about her, but she still wasn’t a fan of the fact that her life outside of Riverwood had begun to seep into her home town.  
  
So the night passed as such with the group passing between them stories that no one believed partnered with laughter erupting from all of them in turns. Whenever the conversation began to drift towards the too-personal details of Jannir, making the lithe woman squirm with discomfort, Ralof would miraculously think of another tale he needed to recite even if he had already told it several times before in the past. His hand never moved from her thigh.


	8. Chapter 8

“So do you buy it?”  
  
Gerdur laughed, leaning into Hod a bit more as she wrapped an arm around his shoulders, his own arms tightening around her waist as she sat in his lap. For what must have been the millionth time his breath was stolen by the sheer beauty that was Gerdur and he thanked every god that would listen for bringing her into his life. “Not for a moment,” she replied once her laughter abated.  
  
Hod nodded in agreement, nuzzling Gerdur’s neck. “Those two are as in love as they ever were.”  
  
It was Gerdur’s turn to nod. “But Jannir has changed...she’s changed a lot. She tries not to show it, but I can still see the shadows that seem to always hang over her. I think spending some time here and with Ralof might help though.”  
  
With a noise of agreement, Hod began to nibble at his wife’s ear. “But enough about them...time for us.” Grinning up at his wife wolfishly he wrapped his arms securely around her and stood up, seizing her lips hungrily and moving them towards their large bed.  
  
\----------------------------------------------------  
  
Her pack tucked away safely in her locked rented room at the Sleeping Giant, Jannir and Ralof walked through the few streets of Riverwood at a leisurely pace. Neither spoke much less looked at one another, but the space between them wasn’t charged with awkwardness so much as a sense of familiarity. Even during the brief time that Jannir had lived in Riverwood and they had been planning a future they had been like this, silent and separate, yet always communicating and more intimate than words could describe. They had survived Helgen together and had only done so thanks to the other, he had been there when she was “born,” she had been there when he was finally able to lay down his sword. Even throughout the entirety of the war they had almost subconsciously stuck close together, watching one another’s back on the battlefield out of a sense that superseded camaraderie.  
  
There wasn’t a single person that didn’t notice these things about the pair and that was exactly why Jannir never brought anyone to Riverwood after Lydia. Ralof was just too personal a detail to have everyone know and she had too many enemies for personal details to be beneficial.  
  
Leaning back on the stump where she had first met up with Ralof and his family, she watched the clouds moving across the sky, the moons all full and lighting up the night particularly well. Ralof stood a couple paces from her, thumbs hooked in his belt as he watched the light of the moons and stars reflect off of the surface of the river. She was waiting for him to say something, because she knew he had something he wanted to say – he almost always had something he wanted to say.  
  
“So are you just going to leave me here again?” Theeere it was. “Just pop in enough to let us all know you’re alive, help out the local businesses, then take off and leave me behind again?”  
  
She took a deep breath, her torso expanding and eyes closing as her muscles relaxed a bit. This again. Ever since the day that she had turned down Ralof’s proposal, he’d asked these things, unable to understand why she wouldn’t let him come with her. “I told you before: it’s for your own protection. Remember what happened to Lydia, how she was practically torn to shreds? If something like that were to happen to you, I...” She shook her head and pushed herself up, eyes opening as she leaned forward and propped up her elbows on her knees, letting him read into her silence as he wished to.  
  
It was a half-truth anyway. If he died because she couldn’t protect him in one of the numerous dangerous places she went, it would tear her up. Using Lydia as an example to pull at his heart strings was shameless and she was fairly sure she was going to suffer in the afterlife for it, but it served her purpose well. At the mention of the late House Carl’s name, Ralof had winced. But truth was that she just didn’t want others to know about him and use him and his family – her family – against her.  
  
Then of course there was that pesky detail that she just didn’t want him to know who she really was. Ralof was, above anything else, a good and honourable man. He fought for his country out of love, protected his family and his friends, and sometimes even protected her. If he found out that the woman he loved was even a member of the Dark Brotherhood, let alone the leader of it... She didn’t want to think on that too much.  
  
She knew she was being selfish, knew that it hurt him tremendously every time she left him behind in every sense of the word, but she couldn’t bring herself to change the pattern. She used to pray to the voice in her head, begging for the nameless woman to let her bring Ralof with her, to change the horrible pattern the two seemed to be stuck in, but the disembodied voice always refused without explanation.  
  
So she had made it clear to Ralof that there was to be no relationship between them. Big words considering every time they were around one another they always seemed to slip back into their old patterns – after a brief moment of awkwardness of course. Thus far though they had made it work in a thoroughly fucked up way. Once she stepped out of Riverwood whatever they were, whatever they had, was pushed back and ignored as her heart hardened once more and she steeled herself for what she knew would be coming next. He handled it in his own way as well, taking women who passed through to bed when he could and working until he passed out other times. Camilla and her brother Lucan had even told her of one time that he had tried to have a courtship with a local woman whose name Jannir didn’t dare remember, though by all accounts the courtship had been brief at best.  
  
Standing up she moved towards him, her footsteps completely silent after spending so much time sneaking about, and rested a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry.” It was really the only thing she could say, the only thing she could think of to mend his wounds.  
  
Shaking his head he spun on her, wrapping one arm around her waist and grabbing the back of her head with the other as he pushed her roughly against the thick tree nearby. She put up absolutely no resistance, returning his kisses with as much passion as he kissed her with. “Please,” he said between kisses, biting her lower lip gently. “Please, Jannir, stop this. Be with me,” he continued, his words punctuated with tender and hungry kisses and his voice pleading and tearing apart her heart.  
  
But she couldn’t change this pattern, knew it with such a heartbreaking certainty that she was left without words. Grabbing him by the back of his head she returned his passion, wrapping a leg around him and lifting her dress in the process as she desperately tried to convey to him through her actions what she was feeling and wordlessly explain to her why she was so helpless in this.  
  
Pulling her from the tree he moved them over behind the mill, roughly pulling at his trousers with one hand as he slammed her against the wooden wall. Once his hardened member was freed and exposed in the light of the night he grabbed her again to pull her to his body even as she wrapped a leg around his hips again, the hem of her dress trailing up as his lips met hers once more for a hungry instance before he leaned down and bit at her neck. Grabbing her by the hips he helped to lift her up as he pushed her back against the wall roughly even as she angled herself to accept his length.  
  
None of it was tender but then again nothing they were feeling was either. So they clawed and bit at one another as they coupled roughly, blonde body hair giving them an almost ethereal quality in the moonlight as they turned each other’s scarred skin red. It was by some divine work of magic and willpower stronger than any deity she could name that they made it within the walls of his own rented room at the Sleeping Giant, intimidately woven together, naked, and still sweating not long after the arduous journey from saw mill to tavern room. At some point they fell asleep, still woven together and with both of their hearts content for the time being.  
  
\----------------------------------------  
  
 _She loved him. Lying in his arms like this, she was suddenly sure of it and it took every ounce of self control not to declare it from the rooftops. It was either that or she was still drunk from the night before, certainly the effects of last night were lingering. Her head was pounding, she’d suddenly become a vampire if her newfound relationship with light was any indication, but at least she hadn’t given her maidenhood away._  
  
 _Looking down at Ralof she wasn’t entirely sure why or even how he had managed to contain himself the night before. She’d all but thrown herself at him in her drunken stupor and she had certainly experimented with the things called flirting and teasing – she may have been drunk out of her mind but she had been more than able to register the soft moans he had elicited at times and how rock hard his length had been. But even still he had refrained from taking advantage of her._  
  
 _She was lucky to have him in her life. Even though she was new to this world, she had heard plenty of horrible stories in taverns about women who had ingested too many spirits and woken up worse for wear or even with a babe in their belly. Perhaps that was why she had chosen to have her first night of truly getting drunk in Riverwood. Sure many men weren’t of the same stock as Ralof and would have gladly taken her maidenhood last night, but even if it hadn’t been Ralof that she was so inexplicably drawn to, he and the other local men would have kept her safe and deterred any others from harming her...even if she did seem to really want it at the time._  
  
 _Pushing herself from the bed as gently as she could she adjusted her clothing until it was some semblance of human and practically crawled from the room and to the barkeep, who laughed at her and passed her requested cup of water after some light-hearted banter. One look at Lydia made her cheeks flush though. In all of the activity from the night before, she had completely forgotten her House Carl, who still sat with a thoroughly irate and disgusted expression in the chair Jannir had seen her in last night._  
  
 _But it was the comment that Lydia made as they finally left the tavern some time later that truly wounded her, making her flinch at the other woman’s cruel and cold tone. She didn’t speak up though, didn’t dare contradict Lydia’s words. If she had been in Lydia’s position, she could have thought that she and Ralof had copulated too, but what’s more Jannir knew that telling Lydia anything but a confirmation would simply go in one ear and out the other. Lydia had already seemed to make up her mind about Jannir._


	9. Chapter 9

_Bow strapped to her back with a full quiver of steel-tipped arrows, Jannir ran through the woods surrounding Riverwood with Ralof hot on her tail. For once she didn’t bother to wear her armour, instead settling with a dress she had bought off a tavern maid some time ago, the green material softly thwacking her legs as she ran full speed and her well worn kid boots patting against the broken stone path of the road. Turning around with a bright smile she made a taunting gesture towards Ralof before turning back around and running full speed. She knew where she was going as naturally as if the map to the stones were carved into her palm, the Warrior, Mage and Thief awaiting the pair at the top of the hill.  
  
“Come on Jannir, we’re supposed to be hunting!” he called out after her, laughter weaving light into his voice. “We’re just scaring away all the game like this!”  
  
Oh, she knew. But damn it, she could only set aside so much time to be a normal girl and she wanted to take advantage of it. With a defiant gesture over her shoulder she burst out laughing and kept running towards the stones, slowing to a stop only once they were in sight. Reaching out her hands she wrapped her arms loosely around the Thief, the familiar hum of magic and faint glow seeming to almost welcome her back. She would have thought it was just her imagination that the stone seemed to recognise her presence and salute her in a sense of camaraderie, but she was sure it was just her imagination.  
  
With a boisterous laugh Ralof caught up to her, decorated in his Stormcloak armour as always, and made a reach for her across the Thief stone. She danced away from his touch with a peal of laughter that Ralof always told her sounded like bells and he only laughed all the more at it. “You’re always drawn to this stone, I swear,” he commented, his tone light and merry. “It’s unbecoming of a Nord woman, you know. Nords are warriors; leave the dishonourable thieving to the dirty Khajiit.”  
  
With her face turned away from him, he couldn’t see the pain that flashed over her face. She knew that thieving and sneaking were seen as dishonourable to her race, knew that whenever she did such things she was doing something inherently underhanded and usually illegal, but the fact that he was so vehemently against it still stung her.  
  
Though he was devoid the sight of her face, he could see in her body how her shoulders slumped and how her laughter suddenly died. Reaching out, he grabbed her wrist and softly pulled her towards him, still keeping enough of a distance from the Thief stone to ensure he wouldn’t touch it and absorb the blessing. “What’s wrong, my dear?”  
  
Jannir simply shook her head and leaned into his body a bit, looking up at him with a half-hearted smile. “I just don’t like it when people insult the Khajiit so.” At his perplexed expression she elaborated, “There was a Khajiit family that I met outside of Whiterun that was very kind to me and I like to consider them good acquaintances.”  
  
“Ah,” he said in understanding before kissing her forehead. “I did not mean to imply that all Khajiit are bad, but you must know how many of them are – sneaking and thieving as they do. It’s just...well, dishonourable. I can’t help but wish at times for all people like that to be struck dead; the world would be a much better and more peaceful place then.”  
  
She closed her eyes against his words, something within her hardening a bit to shield her from his opinions. He had no clue that he also had included the woman he loved in such a category, inadvertently wished her dead and said the world would be better without her.  
  
She could have changed. She could just walk away from the life she had been living right then and there, maybe married Ralof if he wanted to and settle down in her beloved town of Riverwood. But she couldn’t for reasons she couldn’t put into words. Perhaps it was her nature, but the thought of lying down her dagger and giving up her sneaking and thieving made something twist sickeningly inside of her.  
  
Pulling away from Ralof abruptly she gave him the best smile she could muster, a lie she had been mastering with every trip away from her town, and began all but skipping back up the mountain path. “Come on, the town won’t hunt for itself!” she called. Smiling at his woman, believing her the most honourable and pure person in the world, Ralof ran after her.  
  
_\-------------------------------------------------------------  
  
The dream-memory of her early days echoed in her mind as she spoke to Alvor about different types of armour and their uses, laughing and jesting as though they two hadn’t just stood at opposite sides of a war. Those had been the easier days though, the days before the Thieves Guild and Dark Brotherhood and College of Winterhold. She had still been inexplicably drawn to the underworld though, never a member but always a participant, a blood lust and urge to break into people’s houses injected into her very bloodstream.  
  
“There’s a new type of heavy armour I’ve heard of and I’m still undecided on whether or not I want to try my hand at it,” Alvor admitted.  
  
That piqued her curiosity. “Oh? And what armour could possibly be so difficult that Alvor the Great couldn’t fashion it?”  
  
That earned her a half grin and a raised eyebrow. Shaking his head in an attempt to dismiss her comment Alvor replied, “Deadric armour. Don’t get me wrong, the armour itself does seem difficult to fashion, but I’m not sure I really would want to.”  
  
Deadric, Deadric... Why did this sound so familiar to her?  
  
Her brows must have been furrowed and her expression betrayed her confusion, because Alvor’s brows rose high and he said incredulously, “You do know of the Deadra, don’t you?”  
  
With a bit of a nervous laugh, Jannir raised a hand and rubbed at the back of her head with a shrug. “Well, I mean, it sounds familiar, but off the top of my head I don’t really remember much about...” It? Them? She wasn’t sure which was correct.  
  
Alvor shook his head, his incredulous expression never once wavering. “Talos, Jannir, how can you have lived so many years and not know about the Deadra? Where have you been, living under a rock?”  
  
 _Under many as a matter of fact,_ she thought, mentally flashing back to all of the Dark Brotherhood and Nightingale locations. But she was fairly sure that wasn’t quite what he meant. With an uneasy laugh she admitted, “Guess I haven’t really been paying much attention on things other than the war.”  
  
“Not much of a reader either, apparently,” he said with the shake of his head. “Deadra are a race, practically gods in their own way, which inhabit Oblivion – you do at least know about Oblivion, right?” As her confirming smile he continued, “Sometimes they can manifest in our world and some people even give them shrines, though if you ask me those types are insane. There are a lot of different types but only seventeen “Princes,” and those are the truly scary ones. Like Nocturnal.” He shuddered a bit.  
  
Nocturnal. Her eyes widened a bit and she’d let him think that it was because she was as horrified as he clearly was. That was why Deadra sounded so familiar. Vaguely she thought that she had heard Karliah or Brynyolf mention something of the sort when they were becoming Nightingales, but she hadn’t been paying much attention at the time.  
  
The Compainions would have to wait for her a bit longer. First things first, she needed to go back and visit Nocturnal again as well as perhaps raid the libraries of the College.  
  
A few minutes later she wrapped up her conversation with Alvor, waving goodbye to him and wishing him and his family well as she headed back to the Sleeping Giant to gather together her items and prepare for her journey.  
  
How had she gone so long without paying attention, truly paying attention, to the Deadra? That was the question that kept winding its way through her head as she stepped into her room and began fumbling through her pack to dig out her armour, shedding herself quickly of her plain gown. She was sure that others had mentioned the Deadra often enough to her, certainly the things seemed as big and important as any of the other gods, so how was it that it had never clicked in her head to look for answers with them?  
  
That familiar female voice began ringing in her mind once more, this time laughing as though whomever the voice was they were privy to a joke. Jannir was pretty sure that she was the butt of it and snarled at the voice out of frustration. _Oh my dear,_ the voice said, _you weren’t aware of the Deadra because we didn’t yet_ want _you aware of them._  
  
It took every ounce of self control that she had not to punch the wall. At the sound of the door handle struggling against the lock however snapped her back to the present. “Jannir?” Ralof. Fantastic. The door handle jiggled again before a soft knock sounded on the wood. “Jannir, open up, I know you’re in there.”  
  
She took several deep breath, closing her eyes against the rising emotions within her and pushing them back down as she urged her expression to smooth out and become calm once more. “One moment,” she called back once she was sure her voice wouldn’t betray any of what she was feeling. Pulling on the majority of her Nightingale armour, leaving the mask, cape, and boots still folded neatly inside of her pack, she moved to the door and unlocked it to allow Ralof inside.  
  
He stopped when he saw her in the armour, a powerful hand grabbing him by the stomach and squeezing as a thoroughly unpleasant feeling came down upon him. He knew, of course, that Jannir wasn’t a simple traveller that only helped out the occasional town with bandits and enjoyed the feel of the road, but he equally didn’t allow himself to imagine what it was that she truly did. The armour she now wore, however, seemed to spell out more for him than he ever wished to read. Tearing his wide eyes from her armour, he met her eyes instead, hoping for some sort of sign that would tell him the armour wasn’t what it seemed. All he found, however, was a raised brow and a hand placed on a popped out hip as though nothing were out of place and she were simply waiting for him to say why he was there. “Um...” Brilliant start. Cursing himself under his breath he started again. “You’re leaving again?”  
  
Her brows rose as though she were shocked he was even asking and making him feel a fool once more. “I’ve already been back for too long, Ralof,” she said simply.  
  
“But it’s only been three days.”  
  
She nodded and turned her back to him, picking up the dress she had been wearing earlier and beginning to fold it neatly. “I know, but there is some business I have to conduct up in Winterhold.”  
  
“With Ulfric?” He winced at the amount of hope that was within his voice, something she had heard and was silently questioning if her raised brow was any indication, her gaze over her shoulder examining. Finally after a moment she nodded and said something about dealing with a dragon that was bothering one of the villages up north. His sign of relief was greater than he intended for it to be. At least that explained the armour (or at least enough of it that he could momentarily silence the questions in his mind), because it was clearly quite strong and enchanted – with resistance to ice or fire, he reasoned.  
  
No sooner had his original fears been placated as new ones popped up though. “You’re going by yourself? To deal with a dragon? I know you’re the Dragonborn and all but...”  
  
Laughing a bit, she spun around and walked the few paces to him, her bare feet making comfortingly normal noises against the wooden floors. “I’ll be fine, Ralof. You know Ulfirc – he would never dare let anything happen to his Stormblade. I’m practically his recruiting statement.”  
  
He smiled and nodded tentatively. It was times like these that reminded Jannir of why she didn’t often feel bad about lying to people. In order to have a truly successful lie it was best to mix in just enough truth, sure, but the thing that truly made lies believable was the fact that people wanted to be lied to more often than not. Most people would never admit it and instead insist that they wanted only the truth, but lies only worked because people didn’t want to believe the worst, didn’t want to see the monsters and push off feeling the painful truth.  
  
Giving him a bright smile, she leaned forward and kissed him softly on the lips, her bare and calloused fingertips tracing a light path down his stubbly cheek. “I’ll come back safe and sound soon, I promise.” He returned the kiss and when he smiled at her again, it was brighter, the shadows she had watched dance in his eyes not moments ago slowly but surely being dispelled with dishonesty.


End file.
